Chapter 3

When House awoke the next morning, he saw that his answering machine had a blinking light. He hadn't bothered to check the night before and he already knew who it was. Closing his eyes against the pain in his head and the nausea, he pushed the button and leaned against the wall rubbing his temples.

"You have eight messages"

"Christ" House limped in to the kitchen, got himself two Tylenol, gulped them down with some orange juice and then pushed the button on his answering machine letting the messages play. He listened to his mother's voice which went from calm, to angry, to hysterical more and more with each message. The last one was mostly yelling and House frustrated by the throbbing of his head and the sound level of his mothers voice picked up the empty glass lying on the floor and threw it against the wall. Once the pieces had shattered, as if by magic his mother's message ended and soon after he wandered off to his bedroom once more and drifted off into a troubled sleep.

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Blythe was furious. Her son always checked in with her his sister's day. To her, it was Sarah's day, the day when everyone mourned for her and she still went to church and visited her daughter's grave every July 11th. She expected her son to call, to show he was at least aware that he once had a sister, and that they had lost something so precious. Her anger grew as she thought of how self centered Greg was. How could he not be sorry about Sarah? Blythe cried deep into the night wondering where she had gone wrong with her only son.

John sat in the living room phone beside him, also awaiting his son's phone call. It seemed that Greg always spoke to his mother and John felt it was extremely disrespectful that he not even say hello to his old man once in a while. He couldn't believe how much his son was just so lucky and just didn't, refused to acknowledge it. As he waited for the phone to ring he could hear his wife becoming frantic in the other room screaming what would seem to be yet another message to go on Greg's answering machine. John sat there shaking in anger, thinking about how his son was going to be sorry for upsetting him and Blythe and poor Sarah up in the sky in this way.

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House walked into the hospital with a horrible hangover and a frightening mood. He hadn't bothered to return his mother's messages afraid of the headache that would no doubt resurface more horrible and painful than ever before. Limping into his office, he noticed Wilson sitting in the chair opposite of his desk and sighed as he limped in knowing that Wilson had heard him arrive.

"Last time I checked, this was still my office" House threw his packsack into the corner, put his coat on the chair and didn't make eye contact with his best friend sitting patiently across.

"And since I'm here to talk to you that would make perfect sense" Wilson answered.

"If you're here to question me, I suggest you do not even go there, ESPECIALLY not today." House finally turned and sat in his chair looking at Wilson for the first time with the most killer glare he could muster. Wilson didn't budge.

"I'm not here to pester you. And at the moment I'm extremely thankful I don't work for you and don't have to spend the whole day by your side. I just came to warn you that your father called me. And before you jump down my throat I didn't have anything to do with this. He says he's coming down, asked me not to tell you but there was no way I was going to take the chance of you finding out and attacking me with that cane of yours. So, there it is. They'll be here in two days." Wilson stared at his friend registering the pained and angry expression now marring his gruff features.

"Fck!" House slammed his fist upon his desk and screamed out in frustration. "I don't need this shit right now!" Wilson stared sadly at his friend hoping he wouldn't do something irrational.

"Look, maybe there's something I can do…"

"There's nothing you can do! You don't want to get into this big mess and I don't want you to either! I'll deal with this myself!" House got up and turned looking out of his window hating what was happening and hating that there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help House?" Wilson just wished there was something he could do.

"Unless you can bring the dead back, or turn back time, there is nothing. So go." House's voice shook slightly and Wilson took his leave.

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Blythe and John sat in the plane both deep in thought about the confrontation to come. John wanted to tell his son how much of a self centered bastard he was, how much Sarah would have been disappointed in him. He felt that Greg never held any respect towards his mother, himself, or his sister and now he was going to pay for it. He wanted to just shake his son and knock some sense into him. How he had turned out that way John had no idea, but he was going to do something about it that was for damned sure.

Blythe cried silent tears thinking about her daughter. She wished Sarah was here now with all her being, and she sent silent prayers to her asking her to forgive her brother for his lack of respect. She hoped that Greg would see the error of his ways. She was just so upset with him and she had no idea what she would say to him when they came face to face. And seeing the expression on her husband's face she wondered if she would even get a word in.

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House sat in Cuddy's office waiting for her to return from her rounds of the hospital. He was in no mood to go off looking for her, and he had paged her three times knowing after the first that she was ignoring him. When she walked in the door he tried in vain to hold his temper as she took her time seating herself and then gave him her full attention.

"What do you want?"

"I want to go on sick leave, I need a week off. I'll do an extra week of clinic duty when I come back" Cuddy knew House was serious if he was offering to do clinic.

"Usually people who go on sick leave, are sick" As much as she knew she should just say ok, she felt the need to probe a bit. Even if it would probably come back and bite her in the butt.

"I don't feel the need to explain myself. I need the time off. End of story." House was not spilling his guts, nor was he going to back down.

"Fine. You can have the week off. You will also do two extra weeks of clinic." Cuddy didn't want House to make these sick leaves a habit. She became slightly afraid when his eyes almost glowed red with fury but she didn't let it show knowing she needed to make sure he knew his place.

House clenched his fists holding back the cruel retort he was dying to dish out. He needed the break, and any other doctor she wouldn't be giving this much trouble to. He was so angry, and holding back his temper was getting harder and harder with every second. He finally decided he needed to get out before he said what was on his mind.

"Fine" House got up and limped out slamming the door behind him as he went. Cuddy sighed and took out her calendar.